


put your hands where i can see them

by zayndehaan



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Activism, Age Difference, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Police, Polyamory, Power Imbalance, Sex in a Car, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, [pulls French legislation out of my ass without fact-checking], ah yes all my guilty pleasure ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayndehaan/pseuds/zayndehaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rally goes slightly awry but Courfeyrac, Marius, and Enjolras manage to make the best of it (while Javert contemplates his life choices).</p><p>alternate title; <i>Inspector, roll up the partition, please, I don't need you seeing Marius on his knees</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	put your hands where i can see them

These are the moments Bahorel craves. The moments that Jehan writes about through the guise of poetry, and the ones that Grantaire thinks of when he actually paints instead of just slapping paint onto a canvas like he usually does.

Enjolras looks to his left and sees Combeferre talking to Joly right beside the stage. His lieutenant feels eyes on him and glances back, and Enjolras nods once before beginning his speech. He’s memorized this one, and the crowd gathered is already wide awake and angry, hearts burning with rage. When he speaks his words are gospel and the assembled watchers (there must be at least two hundred watching him) jostle each other, eager to hear, eager to turn words into action.

The hot-button issue of the rally is transgender rights, and when Enjolras looks out into the crowd he sees queer kids with punk hair, he sees older transgender women clutching their purses like shields, he sees allies holding their friends’ hands tightly in anticipation. He isn’t trans, however, so after giving an introduction he beckons Joly up to the stage, clapping and cheering. The audience follows suit, louder than any concert Enjolras has ever been to.

He lets the med student take the stage, and Joly begins to tell their own personal story. Enjolras moves to where Combeferre is and his eyes quickly light on two boys standing just past Combeferre, lawyers. He smiles widely and slides past the doctor to move to his two other best friends.

“You were great up there,” Courfeyrac encourages him, and Marius nods, leaning in to kiss him. Enjolras smiles and kisses Marius back before doing the same with Courfeyrac, and then he slides one arm around both of his boyfriends’ waists and looks back up to the stage.

Joly is killing it—they’ve got the audience eating out of the palm of their hand, because no matter whether they’re binary or non-binary everyone can appreciate the student’s words and the passion they speak them with. They mention their queer girlfriend Musichetta and Courfeyrac whoops, followed by the crowd ‘aww’ing at the nervous flush that colours Joly’s cheeks.

Enjolras listens happily, sure that this is going to be a fine event. He’s got Joly, Éponine, old woman Mabeuf, and then Bahorel lined up as speakers, and he’ll come up on stage to make closing statements and let people know about Les Amis. There’s a pile of posters (with instructions on how to put them up) on stage and he’s pleased to see that a third of the pile has already been taken. There are several petitions on bright clipboards circulating the audience, and each Ami has also been given roughly 40 brochures to hand out as they will. Everything is going perfectly.

Until, of course, Marius nervously and suddenly nudges Enjolras’ shoulder, pulling away. Enjolras and Courfeyrac both give him concerned looks, and Marius points over to the parking lot behind the stage, where a police car has just pulled up.

Enjolras swears under his breath and Courfeyrac does the same, while Marius just fidgets. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” he says, more to reassure himself than them. “We didn’t need a permit seeing as this isn’t a protest, it’s just a rally. Maybe the police are just here to make sure things don’t go awry?”

“There are dozens of trans youth in the audience today,” Courfeyrac reminds Marius in a soft voice. “If anyone attempts to enact any violence unto them things are going to go awry very fucking fast. I really don’t think Bahorel will put up with transphobia, and neither will I. If I hear one person drop the word ‘biological’ I’m throwing the first punch, cops or not.”

Enjolras nods, patting Courfeyrac’s shoulder proudly and Marius just sags a little. “But we could get in trouble.”

“Fine, fine,” Enjolras acquiesces. “I’ll go talk to them right now then.” He drops his arms from around Courf and Marius, squeezing their hands once before heading over to the cop car with his hands in his back pockets. His boyfriends follow, Courfeyrac keeping his arms crossed and his expression unimpressed. Marius just looks flighty, his hands shaking like they’re about to fall off.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” the blond calls out in a cheery voice, smiling widely and falsely. The door of the sedan opens, and an older man steps out, probably a good 10 or 15 years older than any of Les Amis.

Enjolras’ face drops in recognition. “Inspector,” he corrects himself glumly.

If there’s one pissbaby— well. If there’s one man they can always count on to attempt to shut down the most peaceful of protests, it’s Inspector fucking Javert. The last event Les Amis did together was marching in the pride parade, and Javert had actually had the gall to stop them _during_ the walk and demand the artist behind a recent outbreak of queer graffiti biased towards socialism. Jehan had informed the cop (with perhaps an unwarranted amount of pride in his voice) that it wasn’t them but in fact had been Montparnasse, and Javert had only stormed off after Jehan had given him a (fake) address. Even now the man stands ramrod-straight, as if to remind them all of the massive stick that still lives up his ass.

“Nicolas Enjolras,” Javert says, and then turns to the other boys. “Marius Pontmercy, and Lucien de Courfeyrac.”

“It’s just Lucien Courfeyrac,” Courf growls instantly.

Javert ignores him. “Where are the rest of your band of instigators?” Enjolras mockingly gestures towards the stage, where Joly is being applauded loudly. Javert’s eyes narrow. “And I trust you’ve done all the paperwork to receive a proper permit for this?”

“We don’t need one,” Marius speaks up. Javert turns his terrible gaze on him and the ginger boy falters. The flush in his cheeks brings out his freckles tenfold but he forces himself not to be cowed. “It’s just a rally, not a protest.”

“It certainly looks dangerous to me,” Javert says. “Perhaps we should end it a couple hours early, hm? What do you say to that, _Nicolas_?”

Enjolras levels his gaze with Javert’s. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Javert hums thoughtfully and reaches for his handcuffs. “All right, fine. I’ll make you a deal. You three can come down to the station with me and get the paperwork filed right now, or we can stop this _rally_ before it goes to shit and I have to call for backup.”

Enjolras feels more than sees Marius stiffen behind him, and Courfeyrac adopt an offensive stance, so he nods smoothly. “Fine. Fuck, let’s just go get it done. I have to give closing remarks.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Javert shrugs. “The station’s at least an hour away. You probably won’t make it in time.” He smirks and it’s cruel and Enjolras practically writhes with fury, with hatred. Javert may not be the worst police officer in Paris but he’s certainly the most annoying; he’s not overly brutal and thankfully he’s never shown any of Les Amis signs of racism but he _will_ take great care to find any independent left-wing thinkers and crush them and their spirits however he can.

“Fine,” Enjolras hisses from between his teeth. Javert grins like a cat and then moves to open the back door of the cruiser as if he were a chauffeur. Marius moves to get in, and Courfeyrac follows, slouching grumpily, but Enjolras stays behind, glancing back to the stage and the crowd.

The audience of onlookers seems to be focused on Éponine now but Combeferre and Joly are looking over at him and Javert worriedly. Enjolras looks over at Javert. “I’m going to go inform the other leaders what’s happening, I’ll be right back.”

“Oh? I can go talk to them for you,” Javert says, adjusting his posture. Enjolras is sure the presence of a cop will scare off the audience so he just shakes his head and pulls out his phone to send Les Amis an eloquent text message filled with profanity about their current situation. After doing so he pockets his cell and climbs into the back of the car after Marius and Courfeyrac.

This is certainly one of the more peaceful times he’s been forced into the back of a car, but that alone feels like an attack. It might have been easier if Javert had pushed him down onto the hood and handcuffed him like the good old days, instead of practically talking him into going to the police station. There’s no way to rebel against this, really—they just have to get it done and hope it doesn’t take long enough that they miss their entire event. Enjolras slumps in his seat, and Courfeyrac, who’s in the centre seat as usual, reaches over to pat his thigh comfortingly.

In the meantime, Marius is attempting to find something apparently hidden in the seat. Javert glances through the clear plastic partition into the backseat and chuckles. “Wouldn’t recommend touching anything, Pontmercy. All sorts of people have sat back there.” Marius looks slightly grossed out but continues his task.

After checking his texts from the other members of Les Amis, Enjolras watches the screen on the small laptop Javert’s got hooked up to the dashboard of the car, and sees that he’s currently punching in his location as “civilian escort”. It’s a better title than Enjolras had really expected, and he’s slightly reassured, sitting back in his seat and leaning into Courfeyrac.

As the car starts, Marius continues to scrabble fruitlessly at the vinyl of the seat, and Courfeyrac finally turns to him and raises a curious eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the seatbelt,” Marius says, and Courfeyrac just stares at him in disbelief. Enjolras snorts a little with laughter.

“We’re in the back of a cop car, you don’t have to wear your seatbelt,” Courfeyrac replies, and he laughs too. “God, you’re such a fucking nerd.”

Marius giggles and kisses Courfeyrac’s cheek, saying something about preventative measures, and Javert raps his knuckles against the divider. “Hey. Quiet down back there.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but Courfeyrac is silent for a moment before saying in a cheerful voice, “He’s right. We have to be quiet.”

Enjolras and Marius both turn to look at Courf in confusion, and the boy maintains a completely neutral face even as he reaches to run his hand up between both of their thighs and palm them both at once.

Enjolras immediately relaxes, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he leans back a little and snakes his own hand down to cover Courfeyrac’s cock. Marius, on the other hand, freezes up and looks over at Courf with wide eyes. The car pulls away from the parking lot, heading onto the street.

Courfeyrac murmurs very quietly, “Shh,” and then undoes their buttons one at a time, Marius’ first. Enjolras does the same for Courfeyrac, and as his fingers slip beneath the hem of Courfeyrac’s jeans to tease him he leans in and bites a kiss into the lawyer’s neck. Courfeyrac is reactive as ever, and his hand stills on Enjolras’ cock before he begins to move once more, jerking him off. His motions are small but it’s the thought that counts— the thought that Javert could check the rearview mirror at any second and they could all get in so much shit for doing this. The danger is the real motivator making Enjolras hard at the moment, but the way Courfeyrac’s skin feels between his teeth is helping as well.

Meanwhile Marius remains still, and he leans in to whisper, “We’re going to get in trouble.” Courfeyrac turns to kiss Marius, his hand squeezing around his length as he does, and Marius’ breath hitches. Enjolras can feel the moment he gives in, leaning in to Courfeyrac and breathing desperately as his hips jerk up. Marius may be reluctant to disobey the law but he’s _powerless_ to disobey Courfeyrac.

“I want to ride you,” Courfeyrac mumbles to Marius through their kiss, and the three of them are close enough that Enjolras hears it too. “Want to ride you while Enjolras sucks—”

Finishing the sentence isn’t necessary so Marius licks into the kiss, shutting Courfeyrac up. Courf lets out a small moan, quiet and wrecked, and his hips are bucking up fast. He moves his hands at the same rate around Enjolras and Marius, and they both kiss his throat and lips respectively. Marius’ other hand reaches over to rest on Enjolras’ knee, a silent reminder that he’s still there, and Enjolras moves to hold it as he gets Courf off.

Marius gasps and it’s just _barely_ too loud, and Javert’s hackles rise. He checks the back mirror, and then slams on the brakes. Marius feels a guilty rush and his face goes red. Enjolras and Courfeyrac just give Javert matching shit-eating grins.

“Stop that _immediately_ ,” Javert demands.

Enjolras expects Courfeyrac to say insolently that Javert should _make_ _him_ , as per the usual type of snarky remarks Enjolras and Marius have become accustomed to, but instead the boy pauses as if in thought. After half a minute, Courfeyrac hums thoughtfully, still palming Marius and Enjolras. He smirks. “Instead, why don’t you come back here and join in?”

Javert and Marius both make startled noises in perfect unison while Enjolras just raises the highest, most judgemental eyebrow he’s ever turned on either of his boyfriends. Courfeyrac stares until Javert answers, coughing slightly. Enjolras could swear that the policeman’s cheeks are flushed slightly; whether it’s from embarrassment or interest is impossible to guess. “That would be— com-completely inappropriate.”

“Shame,” Courf replies lightly, and he wrings at both boys at once. They give simultaneous gasps of surprise and want before Enjolras moves in to bite Courfeyrac’s neck and the centre moans. Javert focuses on the road, grip white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

These are the moments they live for. This is what Enjolras dreams about after long days at work and what Marius denied wanting for years, what inspires the color in his cheeks when he blushes. This is what Courfeyrac needs—two people on either side of him who both love him so much they can’t stand not to touch him, and a frustrated police officer struggling with tangled issues of sexuality and morality driving them around.

Marius, encouraged by the lack of handcuffs around his wrists, moves his hand from Enjolras’ knee to Courfeyrac’s hip. He pulls away from the contact for a moment so he can push Courfeyrac in the direction of Enjolras’ lap.

The brunet boy clambers onto Enjolras happily, grinding down against his lap, and Enjolras groans, his hand still moving around Courfeyrac. Marius pushes his fingers away, and then bends over the seat towards them so he can suck Courfeyrac’s cock between his lips.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Courfeyrac whines instantly, breathy and needy, and Enjolras rests his hands on Courfeyrac’s hips to keep him stable and upright. He looks and sounds as if he’s on the verge of collapsing into a wreck, and Enjolras knows from experience exactly how that feels. Marius may have some classist ideas that he hasn’t yet managed to correct, but their boyfriend gives fucking unbelievable head.

Courfeyrac’s hand moves to rest in Marius’ hair, pulling it the way he likes, and as he gently tugs Marius groans softly and quietly around the weight in his mouth. The noise is fucking sinful and Enjolras, who doesn’t exactly have time to prepare Courfeyrac adequately, decides to just pull his clothes down and ungracefully fuck between his legs. He slides his cock over Courf’s entrance and then rubs it between his thighs and over his perineum again and again, teasing but not giving, and his breath is heavy on the back of the boy’s ear.

Courfeyrac reacts as loudly and vibrantly as always; arching back towards Enjolras and then up towards Marius as a string of moans and demands escape his parted lips. He begs both boys to fuck him properly and Enjolras can see Javert’s face growing positively scarlet in the rearview mirror. The thought crosses the leader’s mind that perhaps Courfeyrac is doing this on purpose, egging Javert on to tease him, but—Courfeyrac hardly has control of himself right now, as proven by his cries and pleas.

Marius bobs his head once more and the centre loses himself, eyes closing tightly as his hips piston up into Marius’ throat and he comes. Marius swallows like it’s his fucking occupation to do so, and Enjolras pulls himself away from teasing Courfeyrac, instead wrapping his arms around him to hold him up as he sags.

After a long moment, Marius pulls off, flushed and hard, and Courfeyrac’s eyes flutter open. He moves off Enjolras’ lap to lean against the window and practically pushes them together.

It takes a little less than a second for Enjolras’ mouth to find Marius’, and a moment longer for his hand to grasp Marius’ length. Marius’ fingers are soon around Enjolras as well and he’s kissing back eagerly, and it’s not long before both of them spend against each other, rutting helplessly in the backseat of the police car.

Marius pulls Enjolras down to sit on his lap and embraces him, both breathing hard. Courfeyrac’s cleaned himself up a little bit and he’s watching them affectionately but Enjolras could swear a moment ago he was exchanging a glance with the rearview mirror. The blond raises a curious eyebrow and Courfeyrac just grins at him and says, “That was fucking wild.”

“We’re here,” Javert interrupts, and Enjolras doesn’t exactly notice any shift in gravity so he wonders how long the car’s been parked. The cop gets out to open their door, and when they stumble out, all wrecked and glowing, Enjolras looks up and sees… the rally again. They're in the same parking lot.

He turns to Javert in confusion, who’s still blushing hard _and_ hard, and the officer says tersely, “We’ll discuss the paperwork next time.” Without another word, he stalks back to his car.

Courfeyrac actually laughs aloud, leaning against Enjolras’ shoulder. “Guess he couldn’t bring us back to the station when we all look like we’ve been fucked and he’s got a boner.”

Enjolras turns to face Courfeyrac, but Marius is already there, standing behind Courf and resting his chin on his shoulder. He murmurs “But you _haven’t_ been really fucked yet” like it’s a promise, which, of course, it is. Enjolras grins and leans in to kiss Courf, and then Marius over his shoulder.

He hears his name from the rally and turns to face the sound, where Combeferre is running over to them. He looks both impressed and unimpressed with them, and crosses his arms before smiling mischievously. “You just barely made it back in time for closing statements. How did things go?”

Courfeyrac replies cheerfully, “You know what, Combeferre? Fuck the police.” The three boyfriends all laugh breathlessly, holding hands to run over to the stage just in time so Enjolras can finish the rally off with an empowering speech. And Combeferre stares after them, confused and concerned over whether his friends actually just fucked a cop.


End file.
